


Talk to me (like lovers do)

by karoffelbrei89



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Human Castiel, M/M, Season/Series 10 Spoilers, chick flick moments, full of them, just read the damn thing, season 10 compliant, well humanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karoffelbrei89/pseuds/karoffelbrei89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 10 compliant: Dean and Cas are working a case together, despite the emotional distance that has emerged between them since the events of 10x22. Eventually they talk. No more pretending, not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to me (like lovers do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizbobjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizbobjones/gifts).



> I haven't wrote a fic in ages, never in this fandom and this language, so be kind to me. Kudos and reviews will be rewarded with muffins <3  
> Read it on [tumblr](http://nerdylittleshit.tumblr.com/post/130020518752/the-destiel-fic-nobody-asked-for-i-havent)

He hears Sam before anything else, the calm calculated voice of his brother. He doesn’t gather much but enough to know that Sam is talking about a possible job. Dean stops in his tracks and sighs; he had hoped today would be his day off.

“Yeah, right, I’ll tell Dean about it. Take care.”

“You’ll tell me about what?”

Sam looks up, obviously surprised that Dean is already awake. By the look of it Sam has been up for a while now, surrounded by a coffee mug and an empty cereal bowl. The laptop in front of him makes the same wheezy sound as always and Dean tries very hard not to think about how Charlie promised to get them a new one. He tries not to think too much about anything these days.

“Uhm… a potential vampire nest outside of Wichita.”

“Yeah well, that is a two men job, so we’re out of it.”

Sam sighs. He already knows this, they both do. You can’t hunt a vampire with a sprained ankle, you can’t hunt anything like this. Which is why Sam has spent the last few days researching and Dean has done some solo hunts. They both feel useless. There isn’t much lore about a pre-biblical force of evil for starters and Dean feels he has been wasting his time hunting ghosts and the likes when there is something way bigger out there. Just that so far nothing has really happened, despite a big cloud of dark smoke. Nothing had seemingly changed after the air cleared again. Dean was tired of waiting. He wanted to do something, anything.

“I know . That’s why Cas called to ask for your help.”

“You’re sure he asked for _my_ help?”

“Yes. Come on Dean, you can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’m not…”

Sam gives him _the look_ and Dean shuts up. He knows that Sam is right. Of course he is. He had tried to stay away from Cas as best as he could, always making sure Sam was around whenever they met. Apart from that one time where he had tried to find the right words to apologize for almost killing Cas. As it turned out there weren’t any right words to say or things to do. Cas said that they were good again, that it wasn’t the real Dean who had acted, that despite all he was a good man. Dean wished he hadn’t. Things would be easier if Cas were still angry. If for once he hated Dean as much as Dean hated himself. Cas didn’t do him the favour and in response Dean found it impossible to be around him anymore, let alone talk to him. No way they could work together.

“He’s sure it’s vampires?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Alright, I’ll grab my things.”

\---

Sam had told him that Cas had booked a room in the Western Holiday Motel, so that’s where he goes first. Dean knows it would be the easiest to simply call Cas, ask him about his room number, where he is at the moment, if they can meet. Still he sits in his car, staring at his phone, anxiety pumping through his veins. They used to call each other all the time, or at least text. But things haven’t been the same for a while now, even before well… _before_. If he’s honest he knows it has been that way ever since he died and came back with black eyes. The reality of that, of Sam and Cas believing he was gone for good, only hit him later. It was then that Cas became closer to Sam, but somehow they had stayed that way, despite Dean coming back. Sometimes he felt as if he were still dead.

Instead of calling he texts Cas. The answer comes faster than he expects and a moment later Dean is on his way to a small diner just around the corner of the motel. He remembers eating there a couple of years ago during a hunt. Cas was with them, watching Sam and Dean eating their burgers in the same careful way he always did whenever they did something so profanely human, as if he was about to learn a lesson. Dean wonders if Cas still remembers the diner from back then or if it is just a big coincidence.

Cas has chosen a table back at the end of the diner. Dean spots a large cup of coffee in front of him, along with something that looks like a map, a stack of photos, newspaper-clippings and a little black notebook. He looks up as Dean approaches him, a tired smile at the corner of his mouth, but it only lasts a second. It’s not long enough that Dean can be sure he didn’t imagined it. Cas looks like he hasn’t slept in days, the colour of his face somewhat drained, his hair even more messed up than usual. His coat and his jacket lie next to him and he has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Somehow it makes him look smaller than normal when his trench coat is wrapped around him, but maybe that’s just Dean’s perception.

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello Dean.”

The moment he sits down the waitress is already at their table. He orders a coffee as well and considers for a moment to add a piece of pie to it but decides against it. He is not in the mood. He waits a moment for Cas to say something, but Cas just shuffles through his things, making space for Dean at the table, carefully avoiding looking at him, the way Dean has done these past months.

“So how is it going?”

“You mean the case – “

“No, I mean you.”

Cas looks up at him, a surprised look on his face, like he didn’t expect Dean to care about him. Dean thinks he might deserve this after all.

“I’m good.”

“Cas…”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

He’s got a determined look on his face, the same Dean usually wears whenever Sam forces him to talk about some shit he can’t do anything about anyway. Dean sighs. Of all the things he learned from them it shouldn’t be this.

“So, no progress finding a cure?”

“No. It seems my case is rather unique and right now heaven is busier finding a way to destroy the darkness than to find out how to break Rowena’s spell.”

“Well, no offence, but they should put you top on their priority list.”

Cas gives him an exhausted look. They have already had this conversation, with the same outcome. It is not like Sam and Dean didn’t do their own research. But although Sam found a shitload of books about magic and spells in the bunker it appears that nobody ever cast a spell on an angel before and therefore nobody knows how to fix it. Their best shot had been Cas asking the other angels for help. Who, as it seems, are a tiny little bit pissed about the whole darkness affair and not overly excited to help Cas out.

“We talked about this Dean. I’m fine at the moment and for now, this has to be enough.”

Fine meant that currently all of Cas grace was busy with battling off the effects of the spell, which has basically left Cas without his mojo. He is fine indeed, if you don’t count his all too human desires to sleep, eat and pee as malfunctions. Dean knows that things could be worse, that maybe this counts as a little success, only that it doesn’t feel that way. It is only a matter of time until Cas won’t be strong enough anymore, and Dean feels like they are all just wasting their time, pretending to each other they’re all okay.

“Okay then. Tell me about the case.”

And Cas does. As it turns out he has already done the majority of the work here, so far that he already figured out where the nest is. Or very likely is. Dean thought Cas would have needed his help with well… everything. Turns out he is wrong.

“I have to say, I’m kinda impressed. You’ve done good.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

It only sounds a little bit sarcastic.

“So this factory…?”

“Is a bit out of town. All the victims were found within a radius of one mile of the factory. There is no other building in the area that is uninhabited and large enough to contain a nest. It is also completely surrounded by wasteland which would make it the perfect hideaway. “

“Yeah, sounds legit. So the only question is how big this nest is we’re dealing with.”

Which is why Cas called him in the first place after all. Because even he can’t take out an entire nest on his own. And yeah, it’s great that Cas can do a solo hunt, that he has learned enough over the years that he figured all that out by himself. It is not like Dean wants to take his hand and guide him through it. Still… it used to be Dean’s job. Cas, motherfucking angel of the lord, used to look up to him, used to need his help. Used to need him. But apparently no more. Not that Dean had been someone to look up to anyway, so maybe this is a good thing. Perhaps after all at least Cas has learned his lesson in this fiasco. One can only hope.

They don’t talk on the way back to the motel. Dean is glad for that as well.

\---

As it turns out, Cas already booked a double. Dean throws his duffel bag on the bed closest to the door (an old habit) and watches Cas pacing around in their room. They both don’t really know what to do. This is usually the point where Cas leaves, doing some angel stuff. Dean is not used having Cas around like this, when there is currently nothing left to talk or do about their case and it seems they have left every safe space for a conversation.

“So maybe we should check out the factory tonight? Biggest chance it is empty. They might be asleep right now, but those suckers are freaking light sleepers.”

He speaks from experience. Cas stops in his tracks and considers the idea for a moment before he nods.

“Yes, I think this would be the best.”

“So uh… what do we do now?”

“We should prepare ourselves for tonight. I uhm… I sharpened all my weapons but I suppose dead man’s blood would be useful as well.”

Which Dean should have thought about. But being an anxious mess around Cas he forgot. Great.

“Yeah, sure, of course. I‘ll ehm… I‘ll get my suit.”

He gets up without looking at Cas, grabbing his duffel and heading for the bathroom. He needs fifteen minutes to change, trying to calm himself down and ignoring his shaking hands. This is Cas after all. This isn’t their first gig together. He should be okay. But he is not. Something has changed and Dean can’t name it. He feels like a wrong word from Cas right now could break him apart.

Cas doesn’t say anything when Dean finally leaves the bathroom. For a moment it seems as if he wants to, another old habit, his constant worry, asking Dean if he’s okay. But then the moment’s gone and they drive to the morgue in silence.

\---

They figure out the coroner isn’t at work pretty soon so the plan is this: Dean distracts his assistant with some shameless flirting while Cas sneaks in and gets them what they need. They’re in and out within twenty minutes. On their way to the car Dean throws away the little piece of paper with a telephone number he got.

“You don’t wanna call her?”

“She’s not my type.”

It is only half a lie. Cas looks at him with curiosity all over his face, before he says, “She seemed very nice.”

Dean doesn’t have an answer for that.

\---

They spend the rest of the day watching some crappy TV in their equally crappy motel room, before they grab some burgers in the same diner they met that afternoon. Everything is surrounded by silence, the uncomfortable kind, so when they finally decide it’s time to leave to check out the factory Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

They park the impala far enough from the factory, by a little group of trees, where hopefully nobody will detect the car in the dark, and dust themselves with the ashes of some smelly herbs, so that they don’t smell like an all-you-can-eat-buffet right away. It turns out the factory is indeed empty, and Dean and Cas take a careful look around, trying to figure out how big the nest is.

“If we take the number of victims into account and the empty blood bags we found here I think we are dealing with at least ten vampires here, maybe more,” Cas says, holding up an empty blood bag as if to prove a point.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think it’s for the best we head back and call for some back up. Just you know… to be on the safe side.”

“You know any hunters in the area?”

Dean shrugs. He knows hunters practically everywhere, or at least a couple of people he could call who keep track of who is hunting what and where. He knows they need some extra help, and that it shouldn’t be that hard to make some calls. But then he thinks about Rudy and would rather fight ten vamps on his own then to drag anyone else on this hunt.

“Maybe…” he starts, but then Cas gestures him to stop talking. He can hear footsteps and numerous voices in the distance. He knows it is too late to hide, even if the vampires can’t smell them they would probably hear them. Dean glances at Cas, but Cas has already positioned himself, with that determined look on his face he gets whenever he is about to fight.

Then everything happens way too fast. Dean tries to count the vamps, there are eight, maybe nine, he is not so sure about that, but it doesn’t matter, they are still tremendously outnumbered. He runs on auto-pilot, fighting with everything that he has. Someone screams in pain, and he’s not sure if it is Cas or one of the vamps. He prays it is not Cas. He tries to find him in the crowd, wasting a second where he is unprepared and the next thing he knows he is on his back, one of the ugly suckers on top of him, ready to bite. There is no way he can reach his machete or even the syringe with the dead man’s blood. His hopes rest now on an act of God.

“Dean, shut your eyes! NOW!”

He does, by instinct. Even with his eyes closed he can see the radiant light filling the fabric. A moment later the vamp on top of him falls down, his body motionless. He opens his eyes, gets rid of the body and looks for Cas. Cas, who sits in a corner, pale, except for his bloodstained eyes, and his bleeding nose. He coughs and there is even more blood. Dean stumbles towards Cas as fast as he can and kneels besides him.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He was about to kill you.”

“I would have figured something out,” he lies, his hands uselessly clinging to Cas’s arms. Cas closes his eyes. He has trouble breathing and by the look of it he is too weak to even stand up.

“Just give me a moment. I used too much of my grace and I… I need to recover.”

Dean nods. He knows there is nothing he can do right now except to wait, so he stands up, pacing around the room until he finds a piece of cloth and some water to at least wash off the blood on Cas’s face. They stay like that for at least twenty minutes, with Dean listening to Cas’s shallow breath and feeling like shit.

“I think we can leave now,” Cas says, a faint blue light in his eyes again. He has still trouble standing up and basically limps back to the car, with Dean supporting him the whole way. By the time they reach the motel the bleeding has stopped and his breath is normal again. They are still covered in blood stains and dirt, and Dean thinks the receptionist is about to say something, but one look from Dean and he shuts up.

\---

It is only after they are back in their room and after they have peeled off some of their clothes that Dean realizes they both managed to get wounded; Dean has a deep cut upon the palm of his left hand and Cas has a scratch on his left shoulder blade.

“I can heal you.”

“Yeah, no, thanks. I think you already wasted enough of your grace on me today.”

Cas opens his mouth, like he is about to argue, but shuts it again, too tired for any sort of fight and Dean is grateful for that. He rummages through his duffel, putting everything they need to stitch each other up on the little desk in front of them. Cas stands up and takes the medicine kit and the bottle of vodka without another word, heading to the bathroom, with a nod of his head, telling Dean to follow him. Dean does and before he can say anything Cas takes his hand into his own, observes it for a moment and carefully washes away the dried blood.

“This is going to sting a bit.”

“I know .”

Cas looks up to him, a small smile on his face, before he focuses again on Dean’s hand, disinfecting it with the vodka. Dean’s sure he learned that line from some stupid movie or TV show. They’re both new to this, the slow but steady routine of taking care of someone, of wounds that need time to heal. Dean watches Cas in silence as he stitches him up with steady hands. It is oddly soothing, the whole process a different kind of intimacy.

“You’re quite good at this. Who taught you how to do this?”

“When I was human I lived in a homeless shelter for a while. This was one of the first things I learned there. It became actually quite useful.”

Dean has no answer for that. He usually tries to ignore the time Cas was human and he screwed up splendidly. He can still recall the look on Cas face after he told him he had to leave, how Cas had not even asked why, just assumed that Dean had a good reason though he had stammered some flimsy excuse. He still can’t even look at Cas right now when he thinks about it, so instead he focus on the ugly tiles in their tiny motel bathroom, trying not to think about the pain in his hand, biting his lip.

“I think that is all,” Cas says after a while, catching Dean’s attention again. Dean looks down at his hand, at a line of perfectly symmetric stitches, and watches Cas covering his hand in a bandage.

“Uhhh right… your turn.”

Cas nods and turns around, slowly unbuttoning his shirt so that Dean has a better access to his wound. Dean immediately looks away, his face burning. He knows it’s stupid, that this is a necessity, no more, no less. But he always does this, staring a bit too long, letting his touch linger. He wonders if Cas has noticed (he wonders if that is the reason Cas never stays). He knows enough about his desires and needs to feel ashamed about it, that after everything that has happened between them he is not allowed to look at Cas like this.

He carefully drenches a cotton ball in the alcohol, before he turns to Cas, his hand on Cas’s shoulder. Cas flinches before Dean even gets the chance to clean his wound. He takes his hand away, understanding what it means.

“Sorry.”

“No, it is… you just caught me off-guard, that is all.”

They both know it’s a lie. Dean had avoided touching Cas after the night he beat him up. He had tried standing not as close to Cas after he realized that Cas went stiff whenever Dean invaded his personal space. He can’t blame him.

“Look man, I get it. But I… I need to clean your wound, so… “

“Dean, it’s alright.”

Dean sighs, returning to his work, cleaning Cas’s wounds before he places a big patch on it. The cut is not very deep so stitches won’t be necessary.

“It’s not. What I did, Cas… I know you said were good, but it is not that easy. I know you’re pissed and you’ve got every right to be. Hell, I was after what you did to me in that crypt.”

Cas turns around, looking at him with a sad and tired expression. He stays silent, long enough that Dean wonders if he said something wrong, already at the brink of bringing up an apology, when Cas finally says something.

“It wasn’t you, Dean. You bore a mark that would have turned any other man into a monster. You were grieving your friend. You found out that Sam and I were lying to you, that if it wasn’t for what we did behind your back Charlie might be still alive. You were hurt. You lashed out. I understand that.”

Cas voice is calm, almost methodical, like he is repeating something he told himself before. Dean knows this voice, knows this feeling, applying logic to something that would hurt too much otherwise. This isn’t about Dean, this is Cas protecting himself.

“You know, that is bullshit. I was a monster. I acted like one. It wasn’t the mark, not only. Part of it was me. I wanted to hurt you. Don’t take this away from me and grant me absolution.”

“Because you don’t deserve it?”

 _You don't think you deserve to be saved?_ Because that is what Cas is doing, what he has done for years, always saving Dean, looking at him with wonder in his eyes, and sometimes when the moment is right with a small smile on his lips. He gave up everything, his family, his home, his life, always with the grand gestures, nothing Dean could ever repay. He had fallen for him, this angel older than humanity, this eternal, powerful being, sitting next to him in a filthy bathroom, wasting his time, wasting himself for Dean, this man who has written failure all over his body. So yeah, he never deserved any of this. His angel, who became his own little miracle, who made him a believer after all. Who keeps coming back, always, a blessing and curse at the same time, and Dean never knows if he should hate him or love him for it.

“You forgave me. After I lied to you. Betrayed you. After I hurt Sam and destroyed heaven. After I came back and ignored your prayers when you needed me the most. After I beat you down. We both have done horrible things to each other. But we’re both still here. I’m not saying it’s easy. But if you found it in you to forgive me why can’t I try to do the same?”

“This isn’t some quid pro quo crap, Cas. I almost killed you.”

“So did I. In fact, I did actually kill you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He hears Cas taking a deep breath. Dean watches his hands, the way they play with the shirt still lying in his lap. His movements are erratic, like he’s nervous.

“When Naomi controlled me, when she forced me to hurt you in that crypt, her ultimate goal was for me to kill you. She already suspected that I couldn’t do it, so she… trained me. She created copies of you, thousands of them, and made me kill them. I was hesitant at first. They looked exactly like you. They acted like you. They used every trick, everything you could possible say or do that would prevent me from killing you. But eventually I broke. I killed you, again and again and again. And I still see your lifeless body in front of me, see my own hands doing it, so much that I need to remind myself that it wasn’t real, that I never killed the real you. But sometimes it doesn’t seem to matter. Not with the guilt I still carry for it. And I feel it makes me a monster all the same.”

Dean lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, Cas’s words echoing in his mind. He doesn’t know what to say. He tries to understand what Cas just told him, tries to picture it, to process it, but he can’t. He looks up, catching Cas’s gaze.

“You never told me that.”

“What use would it have been? I already hurt you enough, I didn’t wanted to further your pain with the knowledge of what I’ve done. But after the recent… events, I hope it helps you carry your burden. I hope you can see why I am willing to forgive you.”

“Cas…”

“I’m tired Dean. If you don’t mind I would like to sleep now. It has been a long day.”

Dean just nods. Cas stands up without another word, stripping down to his boxers, before he disappears under the covers of his bed. Dean follows him, heading for his own bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. He watches Cas for a long time, his motionless body in the dark, listening to his steady breaths. He repeats their conversation over and over again in his head, trying to find an answer in it to a question he hasn’t dared ask yet. It is dawn when he finally falls asleep.

\---

Dean sleeps like a stone for a couple of hours, waking up to the noise of an arguing couple in the parking lot. A glance at his watch tells him it is almost noon. He groans and closes his eyes again.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed to rest. Besides we have no plans for today. I already talked to Sam on the phone. There are no new cases.”

Cas’s voice is a low rumble from the other end of the room. Dean forces himself to sit up, his eyes searching the room until he finds Cas. He is sitting at the little table next to the door, already dressed, with a cup of coffee in front of him. There is no secret code written on the cup, which means it is plain black coffee and Cas got it for Dean.

Dean stands up, crossing the room to sit down next to Cas. He takes the still warm coffee in his hands and sips it. He can feel Cas’s gaze upon him, and that’s when he realizes how he must look right now, with his messed up hair, wearing nothing but an old shirt and his boxers. He wonders how long Cas has been up and what he did in the time, other than calling his brother. They remain silent while Dean slowly drinks his coffee, coming to his senses again.

“I bought you breakfast as well.”

“That’s um… thank you,” Dean says, inspecting the paper bag in the middle of the table. There is a cinnamon roll waiting for him. He looks up, half expecting to see that little hesitant smile Cas has reserved for moments like these, when instead Cas looks at him with a wary expression, like he is waiting for something, trying to find an answer in Dean’s face to a question only he knows.

“Right, I’ll hit the shower, I guess.”

Dean stands up without looking at Cas, blindly grabbing his duffel, before he heads to the bathroom, slamming the door after him. The room is still filled with a clingy wetness from the time Cas had used the shower, mixed with the smell of cheap soap. He looks around the room and remembers last night, the sharp smell of vodka filling the air, and Cas in front of him. He had seemed so small all of sudden, reminding Dean that he was flesh and bones as well, that he could be wounded, that he already was. The weight of his words hits Dean like a wave. What if they can’t go back? What if after everything they’ve been through in the end it was all too much? What if there are things that can’t be fixed? Maybe they are broken. Maybe they just tell each other a lie every time they say ‘sorry’, every time they say ‘I forgive you’. Maybe they should stop pretending.

It takes a while until Dean leaves the bathroom. If his eyes are a little red Cas doesn’t seem to notice. Dean tells himself he doesn’t care.

\---

They drive home in silence. They listened to the radio for ten minutes, until Dean turned it off, deciding that he was not in the mood for music today. They could talk, they used to do this, but that was before. So Dean concentrates on the road, the rattling of the engine the only sound between them.

After an hour or so Cas’s phone vibrates. Even though it is not on speaker Dean can hear Sam’s voice. The way they talk it sounds as if they’re continuing a conversation they started a long time ago. Cas’s voice is calm and relaxed, at one point he even laughs. They talk about the case and for some reasons Cas skips the part where he wasted his grace to save Dean’s ass. The way he tells it they just had a lot of luck.

“You lied to Sam,” Dean says, the moment Cas ends the call.

“It would have only concerned Sam. I saw no use in letting him worry when there is nothing he could have done about it anyway.”

“Just like you had decided to not tell me that shit about Naomi? You know it’s not up to you to decide what’s best for Sam or me or anybody actually. If that Naomi bitch wanted me dead so badly you should have told me so, I had the right to know.”

“Dean, I didn’t think that this was about you. The damage that has been done was on me. It was my burden to carry, not yours. Besides,” he adds, his voice calm, almost matter-of-fact, “I told you because I thought you would understand the reason why I withheld that information from you for so long. The same reason I couldn’t kill you in the end. And why you didn’t kill me.”

Dean’s staring at the road and he just… he can’t do this. Not here, not right now, not ever. He’s tired and his body aches in more places that he can count, and all of it, what is about to come, it is too much. He has dreaded this moment for so long he isn’t even sure anymore why he was so scared in the first place.

“Yeah, you know what? We’re not gonna have this conversation right now.”

“Dean…”

“I said no.”

“You started it.”

And okay, that’s right. Still, they’re in the car in the middle of nowhere and Dean should give Cas the decency to stop at least, to look him in the eyes when Cas tells him what he has to say, but he just can’t. He needs the road, needs to keep driving, needs to concentrate on something else, anything else.

“Ok, hit me.”

Cas hesitates for a moment, and Dean can hear him taking a deep breath. In the corner of his eye he sees how Cas’s hands play with the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit. His voice sounds oddly calm though when he finally speaks.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t fight back when you attacked me? When I could have used my grace so easily to overpower you? Because I knew you wouldn’t kill me. Because I know what kind of man you are, Dean. You said it wasn’t the mark alone that started that fight, that part of it was you. But it was also you who stopped in the end. I’ve seen your soul. And I know what you have done, every terrible act. But the things we do don’t always define who we are, no more than the reasons why we did them. Sometimes we need to turn ourselves into monsters in order to do a greater good. And sometimes all our good intentions go wrong. I know this more than anybody else. But you’re still a good man, Dean. You never stopped being one.”

Dean grips the wheel a bit harder, his eyes still on the road, anywhere, as long as he is not looking at Cas. He doesn’t want to hear Cas’s words. He wants to tell him that he is wrong, that there is nothing good about him, never was. But he can’t. Because there is part of him that wishes that Cas is right, that longs for everything that Cas has to offer him. It’s selfish to crave for a love like this, when he never found it in him to love himself. But on some days it feels like it is the only thing that truly belongs to him after all.

“But then again,” Cas continues, his eyes on Dean, “I might be a bit biased when it comes to you. I’ve always been. I’ve heard your prayers, every single one of them. And even at times when you stopped praying to me, I could still feel your longing for me. And it took me a long time to realize that you and I are… bound. It wasn’t until I was human that I could fully understand my emotions. And I remember something Nora told me back then, that some people’s life are entwined, that they can’t be without each other. It was the first time I couldn’t hear your voice anymore, couldn’t feel your presence, but you were still on my mind, all that time. I began to understand that what I thought were your emotions had started to blur with my own, that I longed for you the same way you did for me. That I felt different whenever you were around, that the only times I felt truly like myself, that I felt like coming home, were when I was with you. When you died, when I thought of you dead… I had still some grace back then. Angels aren’t supposed to feel. But I did. The loss I felt was completely human. I don’t know what the future holds in store for me. I don’t know about the spell and whatever we’re fighting next. The only thing I feel sure about is you, Dean.”

Dean closes his eyes for a brief moment. He doesn’t know when he stopped the car just that he did. They are far away from any kind of town or even a gas station, just surrounded by trees. There are no other cars. Just him and Cas and Cas’s words that cause a kind of ache in his chest he didn’t know he was still able to feel.

“There will never be a right time, there will always be something, with a life like ours. But maybe I’m done pretending. Maybe you should too. I know how I feel about you, Dean. I’ve known for some time. And despite everything, despite the consequences this might cause, I just wanted you to know.”

Dean can feel tears tingle behind his eyelids. He wishes Cas had never said a thing. He wishes Cas would have told him sooner. He thinks about all the what-ifs, all the possible lives he could have had, _they_ could have had. He thinks about the times he imagined this moment, the few stolen seconds he allowed himself to do so. It was never like this. It’s terrifying in a way he could have never imagined. He sold his soul in a heartbeat, he went to hell, he watched his brother die. People talk to him about bravery, but he had never felt brave at all. Now he is frightened to his bones.

“Are you done?”

His voice sounds husky, and when he finally turns to look Cas in the eyes he is sure Cas can see the glimmer in his. He can’t fuck this up. Not this time. Because this is Cas. And he loves him in ways that can’t be expressed in words. He loves him despite every terrible thing they have done to each other. He loves him in a way that he feels it has become a part of who he is, like there is no version of himself who doesn’t and it is hard to imagine there was a time he didn’t. Maybe Cas is right. Maybe it is time to stop fighting it, stop denying it. Maybe he can have this. Maybe he can keep this. Maybe he’s allowed.

“Yes,” Cas says, taking Dean’s hand slowly into his own, “I think that is all for now.”

They move towards each other in the tiny space of the car, until their bodies are pressed together, until Dean is close enough to breathe in Cas’s scent, the smell of cheap soap and underneath something that’s just him, solid and real. Dean looks at Cas, asking silently for permission, searching his face. Cas’s expression is open and calm, nothing like the nervous mess Dean must look like. He takes his face into his hands, his thumb stroking Cas’s cheekbone. Cas leans into the touch, his eyes closed. It’s the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen.

They kiss in silence, each and every touch gentle and ever so slow. They have all the time. They have waited long enough. They touch each other in the most careful manner, like they’re afraid to hurt the other. Dean wants more, an urgency running through his body and at the same time longs for this moment to last forever. He feels Cas shifting, pulling Dean closer, his hand on Dean‘s thigh. Dean pulls away, and looks at him, his face flushed. A question lingers in the air.

“Not here,” Dean whispers, kissing Cas again. “There is a motel about ten minutes from here.”

If they’re doing this (and Dean can’t remember the last time he wanted someone so badly), he wants to do it right, in a real room, on a bed. He wants to drink in every moment, every little sound, wants to capture it.

“Okay,” says Cas, his voice breathless, before he kisses him again, trying to keep his hands off him. Dean forces his eyes on the road again, Cas still terribly close. He never knew how long ten minutes could be.

\---

There are only two other cars in the parking lot of the Starlite motel, and nobody else to see. It’s the middle of the week, early afternoon; Dean didn’t expect it to be crowded, but either way he is grateful for the lack of audience. They walk close to each other, close enough that they could touch, except they don’t, only their fingertips brushing in a way that could be almost accidental. The young woman at the reception ignores them in favour of writing a message on her phone, only looking up after Dean and Cas stand right in front of her. She quickly scans them both, clearly bored.

“Let me guess: You need a room. Two queens or a king?”

“That will be… uhm… we‘ll take the… the kingsize.”

Dean can feel the heat rise up to his face. He knows it shouldn’t matter. Who cares what that kid thinks they’re doing? By her surprised look she probably knows exactly what they’re doing. So yeah, whatever. He glances at Cas, who gives him a small smile. A moment later he can feel his hand, carefully entwined with his own.

“That will be fifty.”

He returns Cas’s smile before he turns to the girl again. She tries her best not to stare.

“You take credit card?”

She nods and Dean hands over the first fake card he can find, taking the key to their room in return. By now the girl seems even more embarrassed than Dean a moment ago, so he makes a bad situation worse and winks at her, before he takes back his credit card. He quickly casts a glance at the number of their room, before he takes Cas’s hand again, dragging him along.

The room itself is nothing special; Dean is grateful the room has not been decorated with a weird theme. It is almost too plain in its simplicity, but it’s clean and tidy, and more than adequate for what they are about to do. Which is yet another thing.

“You know that we don’t… if you don’t want to… I would be totally okay with that, you know.”

Because it is not like Dean doesn’t want this, he wants this more than he cares to admit. But he never knows with Cas and sex. He never seemed to be interested in it, unless of course that one time with the reaper, which ended with him dead, and maybe that’s reason enough he doesn’t want to give it another try (and who could blame him), although of course –

“Dean. Stop overthinking this.”

Cas looks at him, really looks at him, the way he always does, the way Dean thinks he can look right through him, before he closes the distance between them, taking Dean’s hands into his own, waiting patiently until Dean calms down. It’s only then that he cups Dean’s face, kissing him, slow and urgent at the same time.

“I want this,” he whispers. “I want you. I have been… thinking about this.”

“You have?”

Dean can’t withhold a grin, wondering if all those times he had entertained himself with certain fantasies Cas might have been doing the same thing. He kisses Cas, desperate this time, while pushing him towards the bed. Cas’s knees give in the moment they reach the bed, and Dean expects him to crawl back, make space for Dean. Instead he sits there, right in front of him, before he carefully lifts up Dean’s shirt, pressing his face against Dean’s stomach. He can feel hot breath on his skin, how Cas breathes him in, before he starts to drop brief kisses all over his middle. Dean lets his hand wander through Cas’s hair, playing with the soft strands, taking in the view in front of him. He’s sure he will never forget the image. Cas opens his belt, carefully touching Dean’s half-hard dick through the thin layer of his boxer shorts.

“Fuck.”

Cas looks up to him, his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed.

“That’s the idea.”

Dean pushes him down to the mattress, crawling on top of him, pressing their bodies together. He can feel Cas’s erection against his thigh. Somehow they are both still dressed. Dean tugs at Cas’s shirt, which has way more buttons than necessary while trying to get rid of his own clothes at the same time. It’s much more complicated than he imagined. He can hear Cas laughing, and before he can help it, he joins him, bringing their smiling mouths together, kissing and giggling together.

“Wait… let me…,” Cas murmurs against his neck, sitting up. He strips down in calm, concentrated movements, something Dean’s shaking hands couldn’t manage, before he lies down again, this time completely naked. Dean openly stares at him, tries to capture every small detail. He wants to run his hands over this body, kiss every bit of skin, caress it.

“Dean?”

Cas looks at him expectantly. Dean is still in his jeans. He slowly pulls them down along with his boxers, trying not to think too much about what they’re going to do. Because suddenly it seems too big, too huge, terrifying in every way. Dean can’t remember the last time he has done this – not just sex – but this, being with someone you love. He thinks about Lisa and how he had been more in love with the idea of her than anything else, and Cassie, who had been in love with him until he let her see the real Dean. Sometimes he thinks he never loved anybody right, not until Cas. The kind of love that feels like it is written in his bones, in his very skin, and how could he ever exist without it? The kind of love that didn’t care if Cas loved him back as long as he was happy and safe. And it took him a long time to understand that Cas’s happiness was bound to him, that Cas might needed him as well. That his love was returned. They completed each other, starting where the other one ends, impossible to be separated.

He lies next to Cas, and for a moment they stay like that, just watching the other, before Dean leans in and kisses Cas, slow and needy. He starts to let his hands wander, stroking Cas’s cheek, his neck, down his chest, feeling Cas’s heart beating beneath his fingers.

“Are you… is this… is this okay?”

Cas nods, mirroring each of Dean’s gentle touches. They take their time, carefully exploring each other’s bodies between lazy kisses. Dean pulls Cas closer, rolling on top of him, until their bodies create a perfect symmetry. He watches Cas’s face, when there is finally skin on skin, and he starts moving, grinding their dicks together, causing just enough friction for Cas to close his eyes, his mouth forming a silent ‘Oh’.

“Feels good?”

Cas nods, pulling Dean’s head down, until they’re kissing again. Dean entangles their fingers; he doesn’t remember the last time sex felt like this, where he just wants to be as close as possible, wants to drown in Cas. It feels huge, almost overwhelming, and Dean’s sure he could come just like this, but he knows a way to make this feel even better. He slowly pulls away, ignoring the protesting sound Cas makes, and wanders off to where he had dropped his duffel bag. He rummages through it, feeling Cas’s gaze upon him, until he finds the little bottle he was looking for. He turns around, returning to the bed; if he wasn’t naked already the way Cas looks at him would have surely made him feel that way. He kneels next to him. Cas’s pose is calm and relaxed, but it changes the moment Dean touches his dick, smearing precum all over its head. He opens the bottle of lube and warms it between his hands before he covers Cas’s dick with it. Cas makes a beautiful sound, somewhere between sobbing and moaning, and Dean’s not sure he can last any longer if Cas is making noises like that. He slicks his own dick, rolling on top of Cas again, with his hand still gripping their erections, rubbing and pulling at the same time, while listening to Cas’s erratic breath. They kiss and rock their bodies to a steady beat; they’re both close, Dean can feel it.

“Dean… I’m going to…”

“It’s okay honey… I got you.”

Cas comes with a silent scream on his lips. It’s a matter of seconds before Dean comes as well, his face hidden between the curve of Cas shoulders and neck. He can feel how Cas slightly shifts, his hand stroking through Dean’s hair, as he kisses his temple. If there was a perfect moment to say _it_ , it would be now, but as Dean opens his eyes again and sees the way Cas looks at him, he knows there is no need for it. Cas already knows.

They remain like this, their bodies still entwined, for what feels like an eternity, perfectly content the way they are. It’s Dean who finally gets up, only to go to the bathroom, getting a wet towel to clean them up, before he lies next to Cas again.

“Sam will wonder what took us so long to get back. He is probably worried by now.”

“Nah. He would have called already.”

Dean rests his head on Cas’s chest, enjoying the touch of Cas’s fingers on his back, drawing abstract patterns.

“Are we… are we going to tell him about us?”

Cas voice sounds hesitant.

“He’s a smart boy, he will figure it out on his own sooner or later.”

“Dean…”

Dean sits up, looking down at Cas. His cheeks are still flushed, his hair a sweaty mess.

“I’m going to tell him. I will. I just need some time to figure out what to say to him, alright?”

“I could help you with that.”

Cas gets his usual serious expression on his face. He takes Dean’s hand into his own, kissing his knuckles.

“I know. And I appreciate that, I do. But this is something between my brother and me, and I want to do it the right way. This between us… it’s huge… at least it feels like that for me.”

“Because of your attraction towards men?”

The way Cas says it it sounds almost clinical. Dean flinches.

“Yeah maybe. But not only. The truth is that I’m scared. I don’t wanna mess this up,” he says and closes his eyes, blinking away his upcoming tears. ”Next to Sam you’re the most important thing to me. And I can’t… I couldn’t bear it to lose you.”

He doesn’t add the ‘again’. He already said too much.

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know this.”

“Dean, I promise you, you won’t. I will always be a part of you. And you will always be a part of me.”

He can feel how Cas pulls him closer, and before he knows it Cas is kissing him again, whispering endearments against his lips. He can feel his own shaky breath, the wetness of his tears on his face. It’s all too much, and still he wouldn’t change a thing. Dean pulls away again.

“We’re going to find a cure for that spell, I promise. We have a whole library full of books on witchcraft, we will find something. I’ll do everything it takes.”

Cas looks at him. He doesn’t seem to be concerned. He just seems to be happy, lying here with Dean in a crappy motel room, like this is all he needs, like this is enough. Maybe it is.

“I know, Dean, I know. Everything is going to be alright.”

And this time Dean believes him. He knows he’s right.


End file.
